Am I My Brother's Keeper?

Am I My Brother’s Keeper?

Theology in the Trenches

By Kathleen Kjolhaug

 

And so it came to pass that the two iconic men of the community sat elbow to elbow. One had definitely seen better days. Raising a family had been easy as his wife acted as the buffer. She put on a smile when his was nowhere to be seen. Good manners came easily, and she passed it on to each of their children. Pillars of the community they became…or so it seemed.

The deeply hidden secrets could no longer be kept once the whispers began. Little had anyone realized that the masked smiles were mere covers for the hell they lived each day. Was it his drinking which caused his temper to flare? Was it his temper he sought to drown in drink? Maybe he felt too deeply that which caused the pain he so desperately tried to escape.

By and by…no one cared to know which came first…the pain…the temper…the drink. They only cared that it all go away, or that he’d stop making such a public display of that which they could no longer hide. But family was family and so they surrounded him as best they could. It wasn’t pleasant to say the least. By now the grandkids were well aware, and another generation longing for direction from someone who was ill equipped to give it was in the mix.

But sit he did, one day, rubbing elbows with the yet another stalwart member of the community. This one, however, had not seen the other side of the tracks, so to speak. There was an obvious divide between the two. So easy was it to look down upon that which he sat beside. After all, a totally different breed they were. Not much in common…so the latter thought.

For this one had not only pulled it together, but kept it together. Proper etiquette abounded and the upbringing was nothing short of majestic. The bragging rights that went along with the offspring were worth their weight in gold, and all knew far and wide the accomplishments of each. The proud parent seemed well deserving of any honors due, and as people passed by, heads turned and nods were given.

Come to think of it, little was known about “The Mrs.” Her name escapes me. Or was it that she escaped? Apparently, it was nobody’s business. His body language spoke of his worthiness, and if you saw things differently, well then, who were you to judge?

When and where these two men would meet could no longer be dictated as some relative had married in and thus, the elbows rubbing. The first enjoyed having a place momentarily at the table of grace; the second outright bothered with the fact that the other had the audacity to sit so near. Not wanting to break bread with someone who was so different than he, after all, was simply his right. Wouldn’t you agree?

Both men were contributing members not only of the community, but of the body of Christ…or so they claimed. The first, well aware of his shortcomings authentically stumbled along life’s path thankful for any grace given at any given moment. The second clung tightly to the prideful buttons latching down his hatches.  The first couldn’t cover and had stopped trying long ago…while the second felt only disgust at the nuisance the first made of himself.

As the story ends…some portions remain too close for comfort. Too many pieces fly too close to home…too many human qualities within us making us after all…human. Thank God He speaks more powerfully than man.  “For God demonstrates His own love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” Romans 5:8.  Amen.